Ghost Ship
by ssmvolvo
Summary: The Doctor, Seven and Tom Paris have an encounter with a strange ship.


Tom Paris walked quickly towards the shuttle bay, his hands tingling with the excitement he always felt as he prepared for an away mission. He had woken early, made a quick peanut butter and jelly sandwich, kissed his barely awake wife, grabbed a hot cup of coffee and bolted for the door. He wanted a few minutes alone on the Delta Flyer. When he entered the Flyer, he was disappointed to see her sitting in the navigator's seat, working the console.  
  
"Good morning, Seven." He slid into the pilot's seat. "You're up early this morning."  
  
"I wanted to check the sensor calibration before we began."  
  
He nodded at her, understanding her need to check the systems before beginning. He started his own checks, working silently beside her. He had almost finished going through his checklist when he heard the cheerful voice behind him.  
  
"Good morning."  
  
He turned to give him a welcoming smile. "Good morning, Doctor."  
  
"And how is everyone this morning?"  
  
"Doing fine, Doc, and ready to take off."  
  
When she did not say anything, the Doctor leaned over Seven's shoulder, looking at the screen in front of her. "I take it you are doing fine this morning, Seven."  
  
She continued to work. "I am well."  
  
"Very good." He stood and gave Tom a big smile. "Shall I take my seat?"  
  
"Anytime you're ready."  
  
The Doctor moved back to an empty seat and watched while Tom prepared the Flyer for take off. His eyes moved slightly to settle on the stiff, straight back of Seven of Nine. He knew she was totally focused on her tasks, almost oblivious to anything else around her. He repressed a chuckle and shook his head. With any luck, he would be able to talk her into a side excursion just for fun.  
  
They were on their way to explore an M-class planet they had been studying via long range sensors for the last month. He had suggested they consider an away mission. Tom had agreed immediately, anxious for a chance to take out the Flyer. Seven had been slower to agree, but he knew she had been interested. He had finally approached the Captain and had received permission for the away mission. The Doctor pulled out his holo-imager and fingered the adjustments. Then, holding it up, he said, "Hey, you two, look at me."  
  
When they turned to look at him, he snapped their images. Seven and Tom gave each other a look, then returned to their work. He grinned and patted his holo-imager. This was going to be an enjoyable experience.  
  
  
  
The Doctor sat in the pilot's seat, humming. He was almost sorry they were returning to Voyager. It had been a great three-day trip to the planet, and they had spent as much time exploring the rich resources of the planet. He had managed to talk Seven into a picnic beside a river, not even minding that Mr. Paris had accompanied them. It had been a fun afternoon. It had been nice to see Seven relax and almost enjoy herself.  
  
And, he had a lot of holo-images of the day. He would enjoy those almost as much as he did the picnic itself. Maybe Seven would agree to another day with him. He would see about recreating the landscape in the holodeck. That would probably entice her.  
  
Suddenly something caught his eye and he moved to bring up the diagnostic screen. Before he could do so, Seven came rushing into the cabin, grabbing for the sensor controls.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
She did not look at him. Slapping her combadge, she spoke, "Mr. Paris, report to the helm immediately." Her hands continued to work as she explained. "My neural transceiver was activated."  
  
"Borg?" The Doctor's eyes started to search the inky blackness in front of them. "I haven't seen any indication of Borg." He turned as he heard Tom Paris stumble into the cabin.  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
The Doctor replied, his voice tense, "Seven's neural transceiver was activated."  
  
"The Borg?" Tom moved quickly to take his seat. "Great!" Checking his controls, he glanced over at Seven. "Anything?"  
  
She shook her head, her forehead furrowed. "No, not yet. I'm only reading some kind of strange anomaly approximately thirty degrees off our port side and approximately five hundred kilometers. But that…."  
  
Her voice trailed off as the Flyer shook lightly. Involuntarily, all three looked up. Seven was the first to look at the console, shaking her head as she did. "I do not read anything on sensors." Glancing out of the window, she started.  
  
Their eyes locked on the ship that slowly started to appear in the top of window. Before any of them could speak, a beam erupted from an opening in the bottom of the ship and the cabin of the Flyer exploded in a brilliant white light.  
  
  
  
"Oh, man. Am I ever glad to see you!"  
  
The Doctor looked around, trying to get his bearings. It took him a second to realize he was still on the Delta Flyer. It took him another second to realize that it was Tom Paris who had spoken to him.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"We were…attacked…or something by that ship. Whatever it hit us with knocked me out and you off-line. It took me a while to even find your mobile emitter. Then, I had to work awhile to get you back on line. I was starting to worry that your program had been damaged."  
  
The Doctor assessed himself. "I seem to be okay. We'll have to run a diagnosis to make certain though." He looked around. "Where's Seven?"  
  
Tom gave him a strange look. "I don't know."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I think she was taken."  
  
"Taken?"  
  
"She's not on the Flyer. I can only assume that she was taken by the people on that ship."  
  
The Doctor looked at him incredulously. "Have you contacted Voyager?"  
  
Tom shook his head. "The communication system is down. As a matter of fact, most systems are down. We're pretty much sitting dead in the water."  
  
"We have to do something!"  
  
"I know. Believe me, I know." Tom gripped his shoulder. "The first thing I did was get you on line. Now, you and I are going to get the Flyer functioning. Then….."  
  
"Then we find Seven."  
  
Tom gave him a long look. "First, we get the Flyer functioning. Then, we'll decide what we do next."  
  
The two men stared at each other. The Doctor finally nodded his head. Without another word, Tom turned towards the helm, and the Doctor followed him.  
  
  
  
"Try it now."  
  
The Doctor reached for the impulse control and activated it. "That's good, Mr. Paris. We have impulse back."  
  
Tom Paris pulled himself out of small area under the cabin floor. "Anything on the communication system?"  
  
"No." The Doctor gave him a grim look. "The main communication system is a total loss. Whatever hit us, melted most of the connections. It will have to be totally replaced."  
  
"Wonderful." Tom slid into his seat and spent a few minutes testing the impulse engines. "I think we can limp back to Voyager."  
  
The Doctor gave him a sidelong glance. "What about Seven?"  
  
Tom gave himself a minute before answering, "We don't have a communication system. We barely have impulse engines. Our weapons have been damaged." He lifted his head to look at the Doctor. "At best, we do everything possible to get back to Voyager so Captain Janeway can mount a search for Seven."  
  
"The longer it takes, the less our chances of finding her."  
  
"I realize that, Doctor," Tom talked slowly and kept his voice calm, "but our chances of finding Seven on our own are almost nil. The best thing we can do for Seven is to put our energy into getting back to Voyager."  
  
The Doctor searched for the words to argue with Tom Paris, but even he knew there would not be any. As much as he did not like it, Tom was right. Slowly, he turned his head and went back to work.  
  
  
  
Tom's eyes searched the empty space in front of him, hoping to see Voyager. They were almost flying blind. They had managed to bring the sensors on- line, only to have them fail hours later. The impulse engines were functioning, but barely. He was navigating by the stars, moving slowly back towards Voyager. It had been four days since they had been attacked. Four days since Seven had been taken.  
  
He glanced over at the Doctor. The Doctor had grown more and more despondent. At this rate, it would take at least another four days to reach Voyager and they both knew that each minute took Seven of Nine farther away from them. Their chances of finding her diminished with each of those minutes. He searched for something comforting he could say, then gave up.  
  
Suddenly, he felt the Doctor jolt. Looking at him, he saw the look of amazement on the Doctor's face. He followed the Doctor's line of vision, his own eyes widening in surprise. Quickly, his hands moved across the controls, stopping the Flyer. They sat quiet, staring out the window.  
  
"Is that it?"  
  
The Doctor slowly nodded his head. "I think so."  
  
Tom squinted his eyes, peering out at the sight in front of them. "Yeah, I think you're right." They looked at each other, then back to the window. There, in front of them, sat the ship. After a moment, he added, "It looks dead."  
  
"I was just thinking the same thing."  
  
They gave each other another look. Tom saw the determination in the Doctor's eyes. He knew there would be no arguing with him. Shrugging, he said, "Okay. I guess we'll go take a look."  
  
  
  
The Doctor entered first, scanning as he did. He watched the diagnostics carefully. Finally, satisfied, he activated the small communication device he held in his free hand. "It's safe, Mr. Paris."  
  
The access hatch hissed open and Tom slid through. Even as his feet made contact with the deck, his eyes were searching. "Have you picked up any lifesigns?"  
  
"No. Not yet, although I'm picking up some strange signature readings about three decks below."  
  
Tom hesitated, then asked, "Any sign of Seven?"  
  
The Doctor studied the tricorder, then slowly shook his head. "No."  
  
Tom gripped the phaser tighter as he moved forward. "You keep scanning. I'll lead off." He looked around, taking in his surroundings. "I think the best thing for us to do is find the bridge and see if we can figure out a way to send a distress signal to Voyager." He could feel the Doctor's reaction behind him. "Then, we'll look for Seven." He waited for a response, but only heard the beeping of the tricorder behind him. He took the Doctor's silence as agreement and started to lead them out of the bay.  
  
They made their way carefully through the corridors of the ship. Tom realized the ship gave him the same feeling as the time that he had gone into a deserted house on land owned by a cousin's family. It was possible to feel the life that had been in the house despite the emptiness. There had been signs in the house of the people who had been there, but those very signs, now thick with dust and stillness, spoke loudly that life was gone. They had called it the ghost house. He decided the name fit the ship he was on right now. Life had been gone from this ship for a very long time.  
  
The Doctor scanned carefully, searching for any lifesigns. Searching for the sign of one particular life. He adjusted the scans, trying to compensate for the shielding in the walls. She had to be here. And she had to be alive. He could not accept that she would not be. He thought back to the picnic on the planet, mere days ago. He remembered how they had sat and watched the sun setting, almost seeming to lower itself into the water as it dropped from the sky. He had been watching Seven as she had watched the sunset, seeing how the tightness in her body slowly drained away. He watched her shoulders drop slightly and the muscles in her face relax, giving her face a softness he usually only saw when she slept or regenerated. Suddenly, he knew she could feel his eyes on her. He expected her to tighten her body in reaction as she usually did when she knew someone was looking at her. It was an automatic reaction on her part -- a protectiveness she was not even aware of. But he knew. He knew everything about her. He knew every little motion and what it meant. He looked for the shoulders to straighten and pull back, for the muscles in her face to tighten and the blank, unimpassioned look to take over the softness of her features, hiding her feelings and her thoughts. But, today, she had simply smiled softly at him. As the sun dipped behind her, he had seen something in her eyes. When he had leaned forward to speak to her, Tom had stood behind them, announcing it was time to return to the Flyer. Her face had changed immediately. The moment gone, the Doctor had stood, feeling her body tighten and her defenses surround her again. He had forced himself to smile at her, and they had returned to the ship.  
  
"Doctor."  
  
He looked up quickly, aware that Tom was talking to him. "What?"  
  
"I said help me with these doors."  
  
"Oh. Of course." He quickly closed his tricorder and reached for one of the handles of the door. Tom grabbed the other one and they pulled, trying to open the huge doors. Finally, the doors slowly gave way with a grinding, grating sound.  
  
"Whew. These doors have been shut for a long time." Tom leaned his head forward and carefully looked into the room beyond the doors. After a moment, he walked through the doors and entered the bridge. The Doctor quickly followed.  
  
The bridge was still and silent. Tom moved forward, making his way toward the center of the bridge, his eyes locked on the command chair. He could make out the shape of a head over the top of the chair. Phaser ready, he slowly approached. Then, he pulled back the phaser and looked at the Doctor who had moved forward, scanning the figure with his tricorder.  
  
"He's been dead at least a year."  
  
"Any idea what he died from?"  
  
"No." The Doctor shook his head. "I would need to have him back in the sickbay and do a full autopsy on him.  
  
Tom gave him a grim nod. "Let's hope you get the chance." Moving past the Doctor, he sat at the helm, studying the controls. Finally, he reached out and worked the console, his hands moving tentatively at first, then more surely. While he worked, the Doctor continued to study the body sitting in the command chair, his surprise growing.  
  
"Well, I think I have us headed back to Voyager." Tom stood. "I also sent a message to them." He gave the console a doubtful look. "Or at least I hope I did." He looked up to see the expression on the Doctor's face. "What is it?" Crossing to him, he asked, "What are you finding?"  
  
The Doctor reached to pick up the hand of the corpse in the chair and Tom caught his breath. The Doctor shook his head as he spoke, "They had cybernetic implants."  
  
  
  
They were making their way to the third level, less concerned now about running into crewmembers of the ill-fated ship. They found more bodies as they moved through the levels. The Doctor scanned each one, trying to adjust the tricorders to pick up the signatures of the cybernetic implants.  
  
"It appears as if the implants continued to function after the bodies died." He gave Tom a grim look. "This ship would have been a very strange place to be for a few months after whatever happened here happened."  
  
"Zombies?" Tom stepped over another body in the corridor.  
  
"Not exactly." The Doctor stepped over the body behind Tom before adding, "But it probably looked like it." He stopped to scan the body, then studied the results. "The implants are very sophisticated."  
  
"As sophisticated as the Borg?"  
  
"Very different from the Borg. They are much more manufactured. I also don't see that these beings were infected like the Borg. These people show signs of multiple surgeries, as if the implants were replaced many times."  
  
"Ugh." Tom turned, his stomach starting to reel. He walked away and took a few deep breaths. "Let's hope Voyager finds us soon. I'm ready to get off of this ship."  
  
The Doctor nodded his head absentmindedly, concentrating on the tricorder. Suddenly, he stopped and turned, holding the tricorder up. He moved it slightly from side to side, then quickly started moving back in the direction they had come.  
  
"Hey, Doc. Wait." Tom practically jumped over the body in the floor as he rushed to catch up with the Doctor. "What did you find?"  
  
"I'm not certain." Tom heard the tenor of excitement in the Doctor's voice. "But I think I might have caught a lifesign."  
  
"Seven's?"  
  
"I'm not certain." The Doctor stopped at a cross-corridor and scanned again. "It was a little mixed up." He looked up at Tom. "But maybe." He turned in a circle, waving the tricorder, searching for the best possible signal. Finally, he started moving again. "Here! This way." As Tom started to follow, the Doctor broke into a trot, then started running. "It's getting stronger! Here!" He skidded to a stop in front of another set of huge doors. "Help me!"  
  
They each grabbed a handle, pulling in opposite directions, struggling to get the doors to open. As soon as they did, they heard the voice, high- pitched and unnatural.  
  
"Hurrymusthurrygethomenodlayhurrymusthurry."  
  
They stopped. Tom looked over at the Doctor and whispered, "Can you make out what she…it is saying?" The Doctor shook his head, still trying to make sense of the scans. Tom asked, "Is it Seven?"  
  
The Doctor shook his head again, lowering the tricorder. Keeping his voice low, he said, "I can't tell. The readings are still too strange." He started moving forward, but was stopped when Tom grabbed his arm. "Doctor, you'd better ready your phaser."  
  
"Oh." The Doctor gave him a surprised look. "Right." He pulled the phaser from his belt and set it to stun. Then, he and Tom moved forward, keeping to the shadows in the room, using the objects as cover, hoping to surprise whomever or whatever was in the room.  
  
"Hurryhurrymusthurryhavetogethomehurrynodelay." The voice vacillated between a low murmur and an almost screaming pitch.  
  
Both Tom and the Doctor could hear the panic in the voice. The Doctor put his hand on Tom's back, stopping him. "Let me go first. I'm a hologram. Whatever it is won't be able to hurt me."  
  
Tom hesitated, then nodded his head and allowed the Doctor to take the lead. Holding the phaser out in front of him, the Doctor moved slowly through the room, craning his head, trying to see the person in the room. Looking in the direction of the sound, he was finally able to make out movement, then a figure. Squinting, he tried to make out the person.  
  
The figure had its back to him. The clothes were dark and loose. The movements of the person were jerky and fast, almost spasmodic. He motioned to Tom to hold his position and moved closer, concentrating on the words, trying to figure out what was being said.  
  
"Fixenginesgetpropulsionhurrygethomenodelaysendmessagefixengineshurryhurryca nnotdelaytimeisgonehurryhurry."  
  
The Doctor stepped out and walked slowly toward the figure, phaser ready. As he got closer, the figure turned, the eyes wild, sweat pouring down the face.  
  
"Nodonotstopthisonemusthurrycannotstopmustgethomedonotstop."  
  
The Doctor stood, shocked, the phaser lowered to his side. Finally, he whispered, "Seven?" Almost without thinking, he stepped forward, reaching out his hand to touch her shoulder. The figure screamed.  
  
"NOOOOtoomuchsensationdonotstopthisonetoomuchsensation."  
  
He watched as she jerked away, her body shaking. As suddenly as she had turned to face him, she turned back to her work, muttering incessantly. He backed up, uncertain of what to do.  
  
"Doc, is that really Seven?"  
  
He nodded his head. "Yes. It is."  
  
"What's wrong with her?"  
  
"I don't know." He pulled the tricorder from his belt and scanned her. "I still can't get a reading on her." He made a few adjustments and frowned. "When I adjust the scans based on the cybernetic implants on the bodies, I can pick her up." He studied the results some more, then moved forward, holding the tricorder out as he approached her. She immediately put her hands to her head and jerked away from him.  
  
"Soundstooloudtakeawaytoomuchsensationdonotstopthisonemustgethomehurryhurrym ustgethome."  
  
He quickly pulled the tricorder away and deactivated it.  
  
"What's going on with her, Doc?"  
  
The Doctor put his finger against his lips, indicating to Tom that he should remain quiet. He had watched Seven react when Tom spoke, her head jerking. He saw that the shaking in her body had increased and that the pitch of her voice has risen. He moved back, encouraging Tom to move with him. When they were a distance away, he whispered, "She reacts badly to sounds and sensations."  
  
"Do you have any idea of what happened to her?"  
  
He shook his head, his eyes locked on Seven as she continued to work. He studied her, seeing how jerky her movements were and how her eyes darted back and forth. It was almost as if she could not move fast enough. He concentrated on her mutterings, trying to make out what she was saying. After a few minutes, he lifted the tricorder and held it toward her. Finally, he pulled it back, keyed in a few commands and waited. He looked up at Tom as Seven's voice played back.  
  
"Too many sensations. Do not stop this one. Must hurry. Get home. Fix the engines. Get propulsion. Get the ship home. Too many sensations. Do not stop this one. Must get home. Must get home. Hurry. No delay. Hurry."  
  
The Doctor looked at Seven, his face grim.  
  
  
  
Tom watched the Doctor as he studied Seven. The Doctor had spent the better part of the last hour staying close to her, observing her carefully. Tom picked up the bottle from the supply pack he had gotten from the Flyer and took a sip. The Doctor had wanted food and water close by, hoping Seven would stop for nourishment, but she had not. He knew the Doctor was worried. Seven would not let them get close to her and she would not stop her work. Even he could see she was weak from lack of food, but it was almost as if she could not stop.  
  
She was drenched in sweat, her hair plastered to her head. Her body was shaking uncontrollably. She worked frantically, moving around the room, working on the different machines in the room, muttering while she did. Her eyes were wide and wild. Any sound or sensation would cause her to scream and her body to spasm, but she would immediately return to work.  
  
Tom looked up as the Doctor walked back to him. "Well?"  
  
The Doctor shook his head. "I don't know, Tom. It's almost as if she is on overload." He sat down beside the Lieutenant, continuing to watch Seven. "It's like she can't control herself."  
  
"Or like something is controlling her."  
  
The Doctor jerked his head around towards Tom. After a few minutes, he nodded his head. "Yes." His voice was soft. "Like something is controlling her." His eyes moved back towards Seven. "Mr. Paris. When you accessed the helm, did you find a database of any kind?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Were you able to read it?"  
  
Tom stood. "I'm with you, Doc. And, I'm on my way." He started walking for the door. "I'll let you know what I find."  
  
The Doctor stood and moved towards Seven. Once near her, he squatted next to her and spoke, his voice no more than a whisper. "Seven, it's me, the Doctor. I know you are in there, Seven. You can control this. Look at me, Seven. I'll help you. Look at me."  
  
Her head was shaking so badly he could not tell if she tried to turn her head toward him. Suddenly, he caught the movement of her eyes as they moved slowly in his direction. For a brief moment, he saw the look in them. It was the same look he had seen in her eyes as she had watched the sunset on the planet. Then, her head jerked, forcing her eyes back to the work.  
  
"Nodelaydonotstopthisonemusthurrymusthurrydonotdelay."  
  
Her hands started to work again and her muttering increased. The Doctor sighed and started to talk to her again, keeping his voice soft and low.  
  
  
  
Tom worked the console, making his way slowly through the alien programs. Using the tricorder, he gradually decoded the language, gaining a familiarity with the programs. Finally, he stopped and stretched his shoulders. He reached for the hand-held communicator, then stopped. The Doctor had told him not to try to communicate with him again. The sounds coming through the communicator had caused Seven to go into a seizure. He tightened his lips, stood and stretched again, realizing how sore his muscles were from the long hours he had spent trying to make sense of the database.  
  
Sighing, he checked the tricorder again, reading the results of the latest translation. More navigation records. He shook his head. This ship had traveled over most of the Delta Quadrant. The people on this ship had obviously been explorers. The lack of weaponry indicated a peaceful people, but the rest of the ship did not indicate a people of high scientific ability – except for the implants. It appeared as if their entire scientific prowess had been directed at developing the implants. He shook his head. It almost appeared as if they emulated the Borg.  
  
The beeping of the tricorder drew his attention, and he checked the scans again. Suddenly, he started, then moved quickly to the console, keying in commands and watching the results.  
  
"Oh, man." He keyed in additional commands and studied the data that appeared on the tricorder. Sitting down at the console, he continued to work – keying in commands, reading the new data, moving from program to program, adding to his understanding of the ship, its crew and what had happened. Suddenly, the tricorder screen blipped and the display screen scrambled, straightened and finally distorted before blinking out. He reset the commands and watched as the display straightened, appeared normal for a few seconds, then distorted and blinked out again. Resetting the commands again did nothing. He slapped the tricorder against his hand and stared at the blank screen  
  
"Great." Turning, he started running.  
  
The Doctor thought he was starting to reach Seven. He had been talking to her non-stop, keeping his voice at a whisper. Her movements had started to slow and her eyes had almost focused on him a number of times. Her body continued to shake almost uncontrollably. He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, but she kept working. The Doctor could see that she could not stop herself. She was losing her manual dexterity, but her body continued to function. In the four hours they had been on the ship, she had not stopped for food or drink. He strongly suspected she had not had either since she had been on the ship. If it were not for her Borg implants, she would probably be dead.  
  
Once again, he worked through the options he had thought of, finally deciding he would try to sedate her. He had been reluctant to do so without knowing what was going on with her, but he was starting to think it was his best option. If she went much longer, he was afraid the extreme exertion would kill her. Reluctantly, he stood. It was time to go for the hypospray.  
  
As he walked toward the doors, Tom came running in. The Doctor immediately put his finger to his lips, seeing from the look in Tom's eyes he had information to share and afraid that his speaking would send Seven into another seizure. Tom stopped, nodded and backed up, waiting for the Doctor to join him in the corridor.  
  
"What did you find?"  
  
"It's a virus." Tom was panting, trying to catch his breath.  
  
"What?"  
  
Tom took a deep breath. "It's like a computer virus." He leaned over, putting his hands on his knees and gave himself a moment to recover. Standing, he sucked in a deep breath of air and started talking, "It seems the Durillians…."  
  
"Durillians?"  
  
"Yes. This species. Anyway," he sucked in more air, "the Durillians apparently wrote a program designed to increase the efficiency of their cybernetic implants. They were trying to write a program that would allow their implants to work with a minimum of energy input and a maximum of work output. It looks like they accidentally created a program that over-wrote the existing programs and then ran amok." He glanced into the large room, hearing the voice that continued to mutter, but unable to see Seven as she frantically worked. "They couldn't shut it down. Based on what I could determine, the program caused the Durillians to literally work themselves to death. They programmed this ship to try to get back to the home world to warn them against using the efficiency program."  
  
The Doctor shut his eyes as he heard Tom talk. An efficiency program. An efficiency program that would literally drain its energy source dry, destroying itself in the long run. He stood quietly, thinking through everything they had learned, trying to find a solution to the problem. After a few moments, he asked Tom, "Do you think you could write a program to counteract the virus?"  
  
Tom snorted. "I could try. But the Durillians couldn't do it. I don't know that I would fare much better. Plus, I'd be working in an alien program, in an alien language. My chances of success are pretty slim."  
  
The Doctor nodded, still thinking. "Can the computer system on the Flyer help?"  
  
"Maybe, but I don't think we want to connect the Flyer's computer system to this one." When the Doctor gave him a questioning look, Tom held up his tricorder. "The virus infected my tricorder when I connected it. Burned it out."  
  
The Doctor exhaled sharply and looked into the room where he knew Seven continued to work. "Do your best, Mr. Paris."  
  
"I will, Doc." He turned, then stopped. "Is there anything you can do for her?"  
  
"I don't know. I was going to try to sedate her. Now, I don't think that would do any good." He looked at Tom. "I don't think putting her body to sleep would stop her. The implants in her body would keep it working. I think her mind is still functioning and maintaining a modest amount of control over her actions. If I sedate her that control would be lost. She might do even more damage to herself." He put his hands on his hips and continued talking, almost to himself. "I think I managed to get through to her a little while ago. Maybe the best thing I can do is keep talking to her. Maybe I can help Seven find a way to stop this thing."  
  
"I'll go get started. I'll also see if I can find another way to get a message to Voyager. B'Elanna would be a lot better at writing a program to counteract this virus than me."  
  
The Doctor nodded and Tom took off at a run. He could see from the look on the Doctor's face that they did not have a lot of time.  
  
  
  
Seven worked. The Doctor watched as she made repairs and programmed the ship's computers in a language he could not begin to decipher. He watched as she rushed frantically from machine to machine, making adjustments and corrections to machines that he did not recognize. He listened as she muttered. He took every step she took, all the time whispering to her. Her eyes would move toward him, sometimes lingering on his face, trying to focus on his eyes until they would be pulled away and back to the task before her. She was listening. He knew she was listening. When he would pause, she would groan. As soon as he started talking again, she would stop groaning and start her muttering. Her words and phrases were the same, but they were not her words. They were her commands, the orders under which she worked. He watched and knew they were killing her.  
  
Suddenly, he heard a rumbling deep inside the bowels of the ship. Then, he felt the vibrations begin and knew that Seven had repaired the engines. He stopped talking and looked around. He gave Seven an apologetic look and activated his communication devise. She cringed when it beeped. He started talking, knowing what the sound of his voice would do to her.  
  
"Mr. Paris." She screamed. He winced, but continued to talk. "Can you tell what is happening?"  
  
Her hands came up to her head, the words now rushing from her mouth, so fast he could not make out any of the syllables. He concentrated on Tom's response.  
  
"It looks like the main engines are online. I'd say Seven is preparing to set the controls for maximum speed." The Doctor heard the hesitation in Tom's voice. "We need to get off of this ship and quickly, Doc."  
  
"Mr. Paris, do you have any idea of how much time we have?" The Doctor listened impatiently to the silence that followed his question. Finally, he heard the reply.  
  
"I'd say we have about twenty minutes max until the engines achieve peak efficiency."  
  
"Have you come up with anything?"  
  
"I think I have something, but….." His voice trailed off.  
  
"But what, Mr. Paris?"  
  
"But I don't know how to…download it into Seven."  
  
The Doctor looked at the figure in front of him, hands pressed tightly to her head, her body shaking. How would they get the program downloaded into her cybernetic systems? He could not shoot it into her with a hypospray. The obvious answer would be for her to inject a tricorder with her assimilation tubules, but that would require her both hearing the command to do it and following those orders.  
  
He sighed and said, "Just get it here, Mr. Paris."  
  
"On my way, Doc."  
  
  
  
The Doctor grasped the tricorder in his hand. Looking at Seven, he said, "Mr. Paris, I suggest you go get into the Flyer and prepare to undock immediately."  
  
"What?"  
  
The Doctor turned to look at him. "You should go ahead and get into the Flyer. If I can get this downloaded into Seven, we'll follow."  
  
"And if you can't?"  
  
"You shouldn't be trapped on this ship, Mr. Paris."  
  
Tom stepped closer to him. "Doc. Listen, can't we just grab her and force her onto the Flyer?"  
  
"With her strength? I don't think so. She would fight us. Even with both of us against her, I don't think we would be able to subdue her." He glanced back at Seven. "Go ahead and get everything ready for us." He looked down at the tricorder. "How long for the programming to work?"  
  
"It should be immediate. I tried it on the main computer program, and it seemed to fix it the efficiency programming without any problems. I even downloaded the programs from the main computer into a number of tricorders and didn't have one burn out."  
  
"Good." He nodded his head toward the door. "Go ahead, Mr. Paris." He smiled. "We'll be right behind you."  
  
Tom stood uncertain for a moment, then glanced over at Seven. He opened his mouth to argue when the ship suddenly lurched, throwing them off- balance.  
  
"You don't have much time, Mr. Paris. Go."  
  
Tom shook his head and grimaced, but started heading for the door. "I'll have the door open and ready for you, Doc. The two of you hurry."  
  
The Doctor did not respond, but moved toward Seven. Keeping his voice at a whisper, he started to talk.  
  
"Seven. Listen to me. I need for you to inject this tricorder. There is programming in here that will help you. Please, Seven, listen to me and do what I say." He saw the eyes move toward him slightly, then jerk away. "Seven, if you do not do this, we'll be stuck on this ship." The eyes jerked toward him. "Yes, Seven, I said we. I will not leave you on this ship. If you do not leave, I do not leave. I will never desert you. If you stay here, so do I." He saw the pained expression in her eyes. "If you cannot do this for yourself, then do it for me. If you cannot save yourself, save me." He held the tricorder out to her. "Save us both, Seven. Inject this tricorder. The programming in here will save us both. Do it, Seven, please."  
  
He stood still, watching her eyes. He saw her fighting for control. He held his ground and did not move. He maintained eye contact and tried to give her strength. Finally, he was aware that her arm was moving in fierce, jerking motions toward him. He tightened his grip on the tricorder and willed her to connect with it. He felt it when she did.  
  
He saw it immediately. As her eyes rolled back in her head, her knees buckled under her and he reached to grab her, pulling her tightly to him, holding her up. "Good, Seven. Good. But, we have to move, Seven. Help me. Walk with me. We have to get off of this ship." They started to move, him holding Seven and she stumbling beside him, her head drooping. He could feel her fighting to stay on her feet, could feel the strength sliding from her body. "Come on, Seven. Stay on your feet." His voice was strong, commanding. "Don't give up, Seven. Fight. We have to get to the Flyer. Stay with me. You must comply, Seven. You must comply."  
  
He kept her moving, forcing her, commanding her. The ship rumbled and shook beneath their feet. He knew they were running out of time. He looked up to see the docking port and was relieved to see Tom standing inside the access point, grateful when he reached to grab Seven and help pull her into the Flyer. He realized he was barely aware when the Flyer separated from the ship. It was only when the Flyer was buffeted by the turbulence of the ship jumping to its maximum speed and he fought to protect her that he realized that Seven had passed out in his arms.  
  
  
  
"How's she doing?"  
  
The Doctor looked up to see that Tom had joined him. He shrugged. "She's improving. She's very dehydrated, suffering from lack of nourishment and quite physically exhausted." He gave the scans another worried look. "I'm going to have to bring her out of her regeneration and get her to eat and drink."  
  
"I still can't believe you managed to get her to download that program just by talking to her. What in the world did you say to her?"  
  
The Doctor smiled at him and shook her head, but did not answer the question. Instead, he said, "You saved her, Mr. Paris. Your work on that program saved her life."  
  
Tom blushed slightly, his eyes focused on the figure lying on the biobed. He reached out and checked the controls on the portable regeneration unit attached to the biobed. After a moment, he said, "Well, I might have figured out a way to fix the efficiency program, but I obviously did not figure out the communication system." He gave the Doctor an apologetic grin. "I don't think I got a message to Voyager."  
  
The Doctor raised his eyebrows, then gave Tom a weak smile. "So, we keep limping toward home and hope they decide to come meet us?"  
  
"That's about the best we can hope for."  
  
"Well, Mr. Paris, at least we are able to limp home." He reached down to place his hand on Seven's arm. "It could be worse." After a moment, he asked, "Did you find out any more about the Durillians?"  
  
"Actually, I did. They appeared to be an ancient race, pretty peaceful and committed to deep space exploration. The implants were designed to assist their bodies during their long journeys – slowing down the aging process, enhancing strength, mental acuity, and so on. The efficiency program was something they argued about for a long time before they implemented it. It seems there was great concern that the program would cause problems." He gave a short ironic laugh. "Their concern was justified."  
  
The Doctor nodded in agreement, still concentrating on his scans.  
  
Tom watched for a moment, then said, "I hope Seven was able to fix things so the ship could get back home and warn the Durillians."  
  
"Were you able to discover how Seven was recognized and taken?"  
  
"Not really. I couldn't get deep enough into the efficiency program to figure out exactly how it worked, but I suspect it had some adaptive programming written into it."  
  
The Doctor's head jerked up. "Adaptive programming?"  
  
Tom laughed lightly. "Yep, Doctor. Just like you, it somehow managed to adapt to what was happening around it." He reached to grasp the Doctor by the shoulder. "And sometimes, that's a good thing."  
  
The Doctor gave him an appreciative smile. Checking the scans again, he said, "Well, I think it's time to terminate her regeneration and get her to eat and drink something."  
  
Tom stood by while the Doctor adjusted the controls. As soon as the regeneration unit was deactivated, her eyes opened. She looked around, trying to focus on the faces around her, then struggled to pull herself up.  
  
"Take it easy, Seven." The Doctor reached to support her, as did Tom. The Doctor could feel her trembling beneath his touch. He was surprised when she shivered.  
  
"I am cold."  
  
Tom moved quickly to grab a blanket. Together they wrapped the blanket around her. Seven fumbled with the blanket, making a feeble attempt to pull the blanket to her. The Doctor reached forward, taking the blanket in his hands and wrapped her tightly in it, holding it closed as he continued to support her. After a few moments, her shivering slowed. Without looking up, she asked, "What happened?"  
  
"Well, you were taken from the Flyer." The Doctor spoke in a comforting tone. "We're not exactly certain how it happened, but you had a program downloaded into your implants. Do you remember anything about your time on the ship?"  
  
She sat quietly for a moment, then raised her eyes to the Doctor's. He could see she could not remember anything. He started to speak to her, to say something comforting, when he saw a flash of memory. She looked at him, her look growing more amazed. When her forehead furrowed, he suddenly knew what she remembered. Quickly, he said, "Mr. Paris, do you think you could get Seven something to eat? I think we need to get some nourishment into her and let her regenerate some more before we try to talk about what happened."  
  
Tom had seen the look that passed between the two of them. Backing up, he said, "Of course. Be right back."  
  
As Tom left, Seven looked at him. She tried to speak, her voice breaking as she did, "Doctor…."  
  
"No, Seven. Not now. Let's get some food and water in you first."  
  
She sat quietly, her head drooping. In a couple of minutes, Tom returned with a tray of food and the Doctor helped her eat her meal while Tom helped support her on the biobed. Finally, she pushed the tray away. "I cannot eat any more right now."  
  
"Very good, Seven." The Doctor handed Tom the tray. "You'll probably need to eat again in a few hours. But, right now, I think you should regenerate."  
  
She nodded numbly, but did not speak.  
  
"I am going to head back to the helm." Tom put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad you're back with us, Seven." Her eyes moved toward him, but she did not speak. He gave the Doctor a look and left.  
  
The Doctor reached to help Seven lie down, but she reached up and caught his arm, her eyes locking on his face. He saw her expression and slowly lowered himself to sit next to her on the biobed. "You really should regenerate."  
  
"I will. In a minute." She pulled in a deep breath and continued to hold to his arm. After a while, she said, "You would not leave me."  
  
"No, Seven, I would not."  
  
"You would have stayed with me."  
  
"Yes, I would have."  
  
She did not look at him. "How did you know that would reach me?"  
  
"I can't say that I did know. I just knew I wouldn't leave you." He stayed quiet a moment. "I also didn't think you would do anything to hurt me. Something told me that you wouldn't be able to do anything for yourself. I was just hoping you would protect your collective." He gave her a weak smile.  
  
She gave a short laugh. "The lingering benefits of Borg programming."  
  
He shrugged, but did not speak.  
  
She sighed, then continued speaking, "I remember thinking about the sunset on the planet."  
  
He turned to her with a question in his eyes and waited for her to continue.  
  
"It was the most peaceful memory I had. I could feel myself loosing my sanity, and I was holding onto that memory. I believe that that moment on the planet was the greatest calm I have ever felt." She looked at him, and he saw the look in her eyes again. It was that look that she had had on the planet. It was the same look she had briefly given him on the ship.  
  
"What, Seven?"  
  
But she could not tell him. She could not find the words. She did not know what the words were. She did not understand what she was feeling.  
  
But he did. Smiling gently at her, he reached to take her wrist with his free hand and pulled his arm away from her grasp. Then, he lifted his arm, inviting her. She started at his movement, the look in her eyes changing to a slight fear. He waited. Finally, the look relaxed, and she slowly moved her body to allow him to wrap his arm around her shoulder and pull her to him. She lowered her head to his shoulder. After a second, he rested his cheek against the top of her head.  
  
He felt her body relax and rest totally against his. He felt her shivering slow and finally stop. He listened to the rhythm of her breathing as it deepened and knew the second she dropped into sleep. He closed his eyes, concentrating on feeling everything about this moment there was to feel. He knew then, this would be the most peaceful memory he would ever have. 


End file.
